Jeffrey's House

It's Jeffrey's house, but not Jeffrey's house. A chip-paint, historic house where innocent girls in dresses play with evil dolls and there are rumors of ghosts spread throughout the outskirts of a French city where this white house should be. Ali has just died in my dream. Ali has just died in reality, burnt until she was black in a pot of boiling water. (time elapses) I put her burnt body into a Chicken McNugget box. (time elapses) I am across the oddly clean street of Jeffrey's house and I have the McNugget box with me. I bury it under the porch of a small, rundown white shack. I cover the hole with dirt and when the box is covered... (time elapses) I pile pages about William Burroughs over it.

The door in Jeffrey's house opens to a narrow stairway with wooden steps and white walls which I walk down.

We are all in line outside for the drinking fountain. The land is a flat plain, but just a little further is the forest behind my house. (time elapses) Suddenly bulldozers plow down the whole forest in seconds. People drop to their knees crying, others are angry. I walk across the plain to my house and tell my mother what happened. She says: "I knew they would do it."